


My Dear Miss Erso

by SadieAndor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: And has a daughter?, Cassian's scary sniper friend, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Krennic is an obnoxious fashionable gentleman, Space!Regency, love letters used as code
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-31 11:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18590818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieAndor/pseuds/SadieAndor
Summary: When the Empire arrests Jyn Erso, they know exactly who she is and how to use her. Sent to live on Coruscant, forced into the life of a fashionable young lady, she hates her life and prison as Ms Erso, the ward of Orson Krennic.She doesn'treallyexpect her transmission to the Rebel Alliance to help anything, but the appearance of a certain gentleman and his sister says otherwise.May the 4th gift for oh-nostalgiaa





	My Dear Miss Erso

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anothersadsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anothersadsong/gifts).



> My gift for oh-nostalgiaa for the RebelCaptain May the 4th Exchange!  
> The prompts were accidental marriage, finding each other through time, or jealousy. I kind of went sideways with one of those, so I hope it's still ok. I didn't have the time to do the research I might have liked, but I don't *think* it should take away from the story.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

As dramatic as it sounds, Jyn is  _ dying  _ for the ball to end. Every party is a pain, dancing and flirting and pretending to enjoy herself at the risk of punishment if she doesn’t, but tonight there’s more. It’s taken her almost a year to find a way to get a transmission off planet, and then to assure that it  can’t be intercepted. Tonight is the culmination of all that work. Tonight she sends a message to the rebellion.

She twirls away from her partner, and then back. 

“Ah, Miss Erso. I do love our dances,” He says, with what might generously be described as a pleasant smile.

“Why do I suspect you’ve said as much to every one of your partners?” She giggles, hating every second of it.

“Why of course not! You must remember who I am,”

She doesn’t, but it would do no good to tell him that.

“You mean aside from a gentleman who must have plenty of admirers,”

“Perhaps, but you are my favourite.”

Jyn manages not to roll her eyes, gag or otherwise give away how much she hates her life for the remainder of the dance, at which point she fakes a dizzy spell and slips back to her room.

When she gets back to her room she slips behind the screen she dresses behind - the only place she can stand and be sure there are no cameras pointing toward her. Krennic may be a creep in every other way, but she’s made certain he’s not trying to see her naked. Unfortunately, some rebellion officer is going to see her nearly so, if her message reaches its destination.

She’s been preparing for weeks. Taking as long to change as she reasonably can, so it won’t look out of place. “Accidently” leaving her datapad behind the screen occasionally after picking an outfit in the morning. A lot of work, when this won’t make a difference.

Stepping behind the screen, she activates the holorecorder. Thankfully, it seems her guardian isn’t worried enough about her escapades to record audio.

“My name is Jyn Erso,” she says as she starts to undress, quiet enough that no one outside will be able to hear her, but loud enough for the recorder to pick up, “Daughter of Galen and Lyra Erso. I am being held against my will in the home of Director Orson Krennic of the Galactic Empire. 

“If anyone affiliated with the Alliance to Restore the Republic sees this message, I am willing to provide information about the Empire’s weapons program in exchange for my freedom. Krennic lives at Landal Estate on the top level of Coruscant. He hosts bi-weekly parties on Primedays, you won’t need an invitation to get in.

“He intends to marry me off as soon as he can find someone I can’t scare off. My situation will not change for about a standard month, but after that I can make no guarantees.”

Jyn pulls on her nightshirt. That’s the end of the message she’s planned. How does one sign off on a plea for help? She turns off the holorecorder. Not that it matter anyway, either someone will come or they won’t.

 

* * *

Cassian arrives at Landal Estate exactly seven minutes after the party’s starting time. According to K2S0, this is when traffic going into the building will be heaviest and he is therefore least likely to be noticed. He tugs at his almost-too-tight cravat one last time before he enters the mass of fashionable ladies and gentlemen.

He mingles with the crowd for just long enough to seem normal before looking for Director Krennic. He finds him talking with the Moff Tarkin, whom he recognizes from the Rebellion’s files of Imperial higher-ups.

He introduces himself, exchanging pleasantries with both men until Tarkin wanders off to find a partner for the next dance. 

“Do you dance, Mr. Sward?” Krennic asks when he’s gone.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been in the neighbourhood long enough to be introduced to any young women.”

“Do you see the girl there?” Cassian follows his gaze (though it’s more like a glare) to a young woman sitting near the musicians. “I don’t know why I host these parties, if she’s so determined to sulk the whole night. But go ahead, tell her I’ve sent you to dance with her.”

“Your daughter?”

“Force, no! My daughter is far too young. Ms. Erso’s father is a friend of mine. He’s been off planet for the last few months. He was on Alderaan last I heard.” 

Erso.  _ She must be... _

“Her name?”

“Erso. Jyn Erso.”

This is the woman he’s here to investigate. Now that he looks more carefully, he can recognize her from her message. “She  _ is _ beautiful,” he breathes for Krennic’s benefit.

“Go on, then. I’ll warn you, though, she’s stubborn. No respect for anyone.”

“I’m sure she can be charming if she wishes to be.”

He crosses the room in a determined stride, arriving in front of her just as the dance is called. A waltz, ideal if he means to make conversation long enough to determine whether to reveal himself as her rescuer. “May I have this dance, Miss Erso?”

“Are we acquainted?” She says, her eyes calculating as she studies him. 

“Not yet. Your guardian suggested I introduce myself, and I find you captivating.”

“Flattering.” She stands and offers her hand. 

The dance starts, and once they’ve both caught up to the rhythm they engage in the expected polite conversation. Cassian’s run out of easy topics by the time the dance is halfway through.

“I hear your father is traveling. When were you last in contact with him?”

“Is that what Krennic’s telling people now?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just how long have you been in the area, Mr…”

“Sward,” he supplies, “And I’ve only just arrived.”

“I’ll tell you a secret then, Mr Sward. I’m Director Krennic’s… ‘ward’ because my father is a scientist - perhaps you’ve heard of Galen Erso?”

“I’ve heard the name, I think,” he says, and immediately realizes at her expression that it was a mistake.

“Have you really? Well, my father’s work is very secret. So secret that even I don’t know what he does. Director Krennic uses travel or occasionally illness to account for his absence.”

It would appear she’s timed this perfectly; the dance is coming to an end as she speaks.

“And you’re telling me this why?”

“Because, Mr Sward, I think you’re hiding something from me.” She fixes him with an unwavering gaze, raises one eyebrow.

“How about a walk in the garden?” He says quietly.

“That would be lovely.” 

To anyone’s casual eye, they must look a perfect couple. It’s only because she’s taken his offered arm that Cassian can tell how tense she is; she hides it remarkably well. Smiling, she makes flirting remarks just loud enough for those around them to hear. Remarks that stop the moment they’re out of earshot, under fruit trees he doesn’t recognize, just in sight of another couple to maintain an illusion of propriety. She looks at him expectantly.

“Well, Mr. Sward?”

He sighs, standing up straighter. “Not my name. Captain Cassian Andor of the Rebellion. I’ve been sent because of your message.”

“You’re here to get me out?”

“Eventually. I do have other objectives. I’ll have you out of here by Empire Day, at the latest.”

Her eyes narrow. “Sorry, no. Krennic’s probably trying to convince someone to marry me as we speak. I’ll be gone by Empire Day.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“You’d better.”

She turns to walk away, but he grabs her arm. “We should appear to be on friendly terms,” he says. Her affronted expression slips into something more neutral. “If we want to remain in contact, I mean.”

Rolling her eyes, she holds out her arm. He takes it and they start back to the ballroom, looking once again the ideal couple.

“Woo me,” she says right before they enter, and Cassian is taken aback.

“I’m sorry?”

“We need an excuse to be around each other.. Ask Krennic for permission to court me.”

“That could work,” he agrees. It’s a really good idea - if they can both pretend well enough… 

“We could create a code, write it into love letters,” she adds, “Maybe plan during walks, if you could find a trustworthy chaperone.”

“I know someone.” At this point, they’re back in the ballroom. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Erso.”

“Of course, Mr. Sward. I look forward to seeing you again.”

* * *

Jyn eats her breakfast alone in silence the next morning, like she always does. She appreciates the time before she’s paraded for Krennic’s visitors, forced into meaningless conversation and duets with Imperial wives.

Today, though, the silence is interrupted just as she’s closing the book on her holopad.

“You appeared to enjoy yourself with Lieutenant Lucado last night,” Krennic says. She ignores him, used to these remarks (she also hasn’t the faintest clue who Lieutenant Lucado is). “And that other man you danced with, Sward? You were charming last night, apparently. They’ve both sent flowers.”

Lucado… must have been the man she danced with immediately after the Rebel, then, since the other was engaged. 

“Sward has asked to call this afternoon. You’ll receive him?”

She nods, afraid of looking too enthusiastic lest he believe something’s off.

“Good. And the Lieutenant sends his regrets, he’ll be visiting but not for several days.”

She’s only forced to pay one visit that morning, though it is an unpleasant one. Orla Krennic’s best friend invites her at least weekly to play cards, and Jyn is forced to go along. Neither Orla nor Maud Preston appreciate her company, and while she could beat half Saw’s cadre at sabaac she will never understand the appeal of the obnoxiously frilly card games the girls favour.

“I almost danced with Lieutenant Lucado last night,” Ms. Preston says.

Ms. Krennic puts down a card. “He is very handsome. My father says he’s expected to be a Captain by next year. If only he'd pay attention to me.”

“Orla! You’re only sixteen, He’s far too old for you.”

“You’re barely older. He’s too old for you, too. He danced with  _ Jyn  _ last night. An entire set!”

“Why?” Maud turns to look at her, disdain clear in her eyes. “Did he think she was pretty?”

“I suppose so. I can’t see why, though. Look at her.”

“Thanks,” Jyn says blandly.

“Well, sorry. But your teeth _ are  _ too big. And those scars.”

“Where are they from? Oh! I win.” Maud sets down another card, the last in the set. 

“No, don’t ask her about the scars! She tells this impossible story about living as a soldier and then my father kidnapping her!”

“Kidnapping! Really!” Maud rolls her eyes. 

It was stupid of her, Jyn knows, to try to tell Orla anything about her life. Orla was never on her side. But she’d been so lonely her judgement was clouded, and she’d searched tentatively for an ally. Orla had laughed her off, telling her she was being ridiculous and repeating her father’s story about a fire. She really believes him - that Jyn’s scars came from burns in a fire, that her mother died the same night, that her father’s been traveling for an entire year.

“Well. No matter how you got them,” Maud says, “They’re unbecoming. Could you not have bacta treatment?”

“Give it a rest, Maud. She refuses to care.”

The morning passes at a crawl, but finally the girls tire of cards and they return to Landal Estate in enough time that Jyn can lock herself in her room for an hour before dinner. That she sits through in silence, and then spends her allotted hour with Orla’s governess ( _ even if you aren’t my daughter _ , Krennic said,  _ you must seem accomplished _ ). It’s a relief to be left alone, even if it’s to practice her half of the duet Orla wants to play.

“Miss Erso, Mr. and Ms. Sward are here to call,” Z-41 says.  _ Finally.  _ Captain Andor enters the room with a politely blank expression that becomes a pleasant smile as she stands. He cuts an objectively attractive figure in his coat, his beard trimmed slightly closer than it was last night. Orla and Maud would certainly approve of him.

“Mr. Sward,” she says.

“Ms. Erso.” He bows in response to her half curtsy. “May I present my sister, Ms. Katerina Sward.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Jyn curtsies again, mirroring the girl who followed him into the room.

“My brother spoke about you at length this morning,” she says. She knows that the chance of her being Captain Andor’s real sister are slim, but they pull it off well. “Katerina” speaks with the same outer-rim accent, and her hair is of a similar shade to his.

“I shudder to think,” she says with a humble smile. While the other girl ensures her that it was “all good things, he spoke most highly of you,” she glances back at him. He looks a perfect gentleman, but she’s almost certain he can’t really be.

The conversation is proper, polite and completely meaningless. Krennic returns from a call of his own to suggest that she show her guests around the neighbourhood in the speeder with Z4 as a chaperone. The idle small talk continues until they’re around the corner from the home.

“I have to wonder how closely Director Krennic monitors his speeders, with such lovely young women in his care,” Captain Andor says, in such a way that it could be taken, under most circumstances, as only a strange compliment.

“Not very closely at all, actually. Terribly afraid of someone hacking into cameras, and all. In fact… Z4.”

The protocol droid approaches her, and she unplugs the restraining bolt, replacing it with a plug of her own, allowing her to access the programming. She shuts off the microphone and hides the traces of her tampering before she replaces the bolt.

“There. If he looks at the footage, He’ll be able to see us, but not hear anything said. That should keep him from being too suspicious.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course I am. Look proper, and you can say whatever you’d like.”

“Good. Do you have any new concerns since last night?” She thinks for a moment, unsure of whether the Lieutenant qualifies as a concern. “You do. What is it?”

“Well. Did you see the man I danced with after you?”

“I did.”

“He means to call sometime in the next week. I’m afraid his interest in Krennic’s influence might tempt him to try to court me.”

“Kriff. We’ll need to speed up our timeline. Kat?”

“On it. Code?”

“Right.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief. He drops it to the floor of the speeder. He looks at her, all apology. “I’m sorry, my back’s injured, could you get that for me?”

She does, confused, but understands when she finds the scrap of paper folded up inside. Slipping it into her dress, she returns the handkerchief to him. 

“Thank you. Now if that’s all…”

“Of course, I’m sure you both have other things to attend to.” She flicks the switch to start back, and Z-4 turns the speeder back toward the estate on a more direct path. When they get back, Krennic makes polite conversation with the captain and Orla, just arrived home from a call of her own, watches him out of the corner of her eye.

“Who is that?” She asks when they’re gone, he curiosity apparently overcoming her usual avoidance of talking to Jyn.

“Mr. Sward, from yesterday evening, and his sister.” 

“And of course it would be you they visit. I will be asking Maud about him,” she mutters.

Jyn rolls her eyes and walks away.

 

The next few weeks bring endless calls, dances and visits. Were it not for the promise of escape in the near future, Jyn might have gone insane with it all. The lieutenant visits at least weekly. Barely bothering to pretend, he makes it quite clear that he cares only about the advantages of Krennic’s position and not anything to do with Jyn. Not that she minds.

The Swards visit with a similar frequency, and that makes things slightly easier. The official visits, of course, are superficial. Katerina is friendly enough that Orla accepts her, even inviting her once to join them at the Prestons’ for cards. The captain leaves letters in predetermined places, setting up meetings for the trade of information. 

It’s one particular Primeday, after a ball that went late. Jyn combs through the note he slipped to her after their dance. It isn’t dated - a security measure so it can be delivered any day.

_ My dear Miss Erso,  _ it reads,  _ You were bewitching this past evening. I lost no fewer than three games of cards, so distracted I was by the sight of you across the room. Katerina tells me how complex your hair was, though I admit that I noticed nothing but how it framed your gorgeous face.  _

The flowery language continues for three more paragraphs, though the mention of Katerina marks the end of any code. The rest is a safeguard, meant to appear to be only love-sick rambling if intercepted. 

Simple enough message tonight - he’ll meet her behind the garage, 0300 standard. She has to laugh, thinking of how scandalous it all sounds. As if he won’t a dozen shades of cold and professional when she meets him tonight. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Jyn doesn’t have time to shove the letter under a pillow before Orla barges in, yelling something accusatory about her favourite dress. The door was supposed to be locked.

“...had to be you, or else - wait, what is that?” She stops abruptly, catching Jyn trying to fold the letter as casually as she can manage. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“We both know it’s something. Who would write to you?”

“No one important, just Ms. Sward. She means to-”

Orla is across the room in a second, moving faster than Jyn ever imagined she could, and rips the letter out of her hand. It tears in two near the fold line.

“Nothing, huh? I bet-” her eyes graze the script, then go wide. “Jyn… this is…”

“Please, don’t tell him. I’ll help you catch Lieutenant Lucado’s eye. I’ll help you sneak out if you want, if you don’t tell him.”

“But this isn’t proper. Mr Sward is-”

“Please,” she begs, hoping to appeal to her romanticism. “He’s promised to make me an offer, but he can’t yet.” She forces tears to her eyes. “Orla, I… I love him.”

“You said love was a myth!” And she remembers saying that, remembers that night.

“I used to think that, but then I met Mr. Sward, and he’s taught be it isn’t!” She wants to gag, but it looks like Orla might be falling for it. Her expression is torn. 

“I - I don’t know,” she says, “I should tell Papa. We’re not supposed to have secrets, either of us.”

“Please, Orla. I couldn’t bear to have him taken away.”

Orla seems to come to a decision. “I won’t tell him. But if he asks, I’m not lying about it.”

It’s not perfect, but that’s the best she’s going to get. “Thank you.” 

“Ok… Just…” Orla shakes her head and runs out of the room, dress forgotten, and Jyn is left alone with the two halves of her letter. Things have just gotten a lot more complicated.

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah...  
> The writing style is all over the place, I know. Next part should be up within a few days.


End file.
